


Held

by BirchWood



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Keith has no chill when it comes to loving Lance, Kosmo is a BEAST who thinks he's a lap dog, M/M, Or teasing him, Post-Canon, boys being silly and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 18:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirchWood/pseuds/BirchWood
Summary: He will always be thankful that Lance had given him this chance to prove how much he wants to be here, to prove how much he cares. And he’s never not willing to continue to show just how much he loves him.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	Held

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to chapter 13 of Moments in May, but can technically be read alone. There are references to that chapter though, so if you want to read it first you can do so [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291110/chapters/50705162)

Keith startles awake when some of Lance’s hair goes up his nostrils. He jerks his head away and breathes out heavily to get rid of the tickle. He looks slowly around the room while rubbing at his nose, noticing the colors of the TV reflecting with the late afternoon light along the wall. He shifts his body and groans at the ache in his ribs, the cushions offering no support. Lance lays like a ragdoll on his arm, squished between Keith’s body and the back of the couch. 

They had been trying to watch an old movie together, but they were both sleepy after being woken up early that morning. His mother was currently on Earth, which meant Kosmo was too. He had popped into existence over their sleeping forms at dawn, crushing them into the bed as he slobbered all over them. He usually stayed with the Blades now because he’s too large to keep indoors. But Krolia is here to pick up donated supplies for relief missions, and to visit Keith, which means Kosmo is free to run amok wherever he pleases. 

Which means he’s currently taken their bed entirely for himself, and Lance and Keith resorted to the couch when their eyelids got too heavy for chores. Keith had pulled Lance down beside him, put on a movie, and they were out within minutes. 

He looks at Lance now, sleeping peacefully with a flushed face. They had gotten too warm in sleep, the heat of their covered bodies making Keith feel feverish. He kicks the blanket off, and adjusts Lance’s rucked up shirt. Then he lays his arm back over him, hand fitted into the dip of his back. He pulls him closer so their bellies press flush together, so he can feel each rise and dip of his breath. He tilts his head so it’s resting back over Lance’s, and lets his eyes slip closed again as his mind wanders. 

In the months they have tentatively been together, after nearly a year of Keith pleading for a chance to prove his worth and his affections, he has watched Lance bloom with life. Slowly, he started accepting that Keith wanted to be here. Slowly, he started smiling again. They weren’t given out as freely as they once were, but Keith cherishes each one. Lance doesn’t have to hold himself in comfort anymore, because Keith is here to do it instead, to wrap him up in blankets when the day looks too bleak and he feels like he’s falling apart. 

Keith is here to brush his hair, and hold his hand, and make his favorite jasmine tea. Keith is here when his Altean marks become too much to bear, and he needs someone to distract him. Keith is here when Lance finally, finally, stops looking at him like he’s going to vanish at a moment’s notice. His mouth becomes softer, losing tension, his eyes regaining a tiny ember of the fire that used to reside there.

Once, incredibly, he even got his marks to light up. It was on one of Lance’s really good days, where he was out of bed early and making breakfast before Keith was even awake. When the smell of bacon and sausage pulled him from slumber, he dragged himself to the kitchen to see Lance fixing a cup of coffee. He smiled when he caught sight of a sleep-rumpled Keith. To his surprise Lance held the mug out for him to take, a splash of vanilla bean creamer and two spoonfuls of sugar, exactly as Keith likes. Keith grabbed the mug, and in thanks placed a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek. 

It was a gesture he didn’t even think about, something that just felt so natural and right. It wasn’t until he saw the quick blink of blue light in the hollow of Lance’s cheeks that he panicked, spilling hot coffee over the rim of his cup onto his hand. But Lance had just smiled, called him a klutz, and reached out to pull Keith’s hand to the sink and run cold water over it. 

They didn’t talk about the fact that his marks hadn’t lit up since the day the lions left, but they didn't really need to either. 

Their relationship fell slowly, softly into place. 

Ever since that morning in the kitchen Lance has gotten a lot better with accepting Keith’s affections, which Keith is indescribably thankful for. Because the way he feels for Lance could fill the oceans, could drown the world and smother the skies. 

He never expected that he'd want to just _touch_ Lance as often as he does. But he can barely go a day without playing with Lance’s hair, or holding him close to his chest. Can’t go to sleep at night without lying close together and just listening to him breathe. 

He will always be thankful that Lance had given him this chance to prove how much he wants to be here, to prove how much he cares. And he’s never not willing to continue to show just how much he loves him. 

He opens his eyes and looks down at Lance when he shifts, nose pressing into Keith’s neck when he moves closer. He huffs a breath out, warm against Keith’s throat, and Keith smiles. He should wake Lance soon so they’re not late. They’re meant to pick up his mom from a late meeting at the Garrison and meet with Shiro and Curtis for dinner. Curtis, as it turns out, makes a very delicious shrimp pasta and he’s excited to get his fill. 

He slides his hand down Lance’s side, and lets it slip under his shirt when he drags his hand up his spine. His back is slightly slick from overheating, which Keith makes a face at but mostly ignores. When Lance arches under his touch he leans down to nuzzle his hair. He smells like warm skin and the gentle tang of his shampoo, utterly pleasing to Keith’s senses. Lance sucks a breath in and makes a low, rumbly noise. He stretches his long legs out from where they’re tangled with Keith’s, toes pointed and feet hanging past the arm of the couch. His whole body goes taut before slumping again, hands wriggling out from between their chests. His head pops up from where it was buried in Keith’s neck, and Keith tries not to grimace at the air cooling the dampness there. Lance keeps one hand braced on Keith’s arm as the other sinks into the cushions to keep himself propped up. 

He looks blearily around the room before his eyes land on Keith. Keith smiles at him, but Lance just grunts and twists his body so he can escape the crevice he’s squished into to lay down sprawled over Keith instead. He turns onto his back and scoots over so he’s more in the middle of the cushions, and Lance thanks him by slinging a leg over Keith’s thighs so he is well and truly pancaked into the couch.

Aside from the near unbearable heat it’s such a comforting weight, being pressed underneath Lance’s heartbeat. 

Lance flings an arm out and blindly smacks the coffee table until he find his phone. He lifts his head long enough to look at the time before dropping his phone and head again with a whiny noise. 

“Why is it so _hot_?”

Keith hums and pats Lance’s back. 

“It’s like 92 degrees out today, and we didn’t bump the AC down before falling asleep.”

Lance groans. Keith chuckles and grabs the hem of Lance’s shirt to tug it up and down so air filters up his back. Lance shudders at the sudden chill but sighs in relief. Keith lets him air out for a few moments, but he’s getting too hot and he’s pretty sure Lance is about to doze off again. He lets the shirt slip from his fingers and drags both hands down Lance’s waist, squeezing his hips. 

Lance whines again, clearly wanting to be left alone to rest. Keith smirks, and dances his fingers across his ribs instead. Lance spazzes as he’s tickled, body flopping as he screeches at Keith. His laughter is rough from sleep, voice squeaky and shrill as he tries to get away. It’s such a lovely sound, even as Keith gets elbowed in his sore ribs. 

He wraps his arms and legs around Lance like a clingy octopus to stop his squirming. He tries breaking out of Keith’s grasp, a valiant but futile effort, before eventually admitting defeat and stilling. Keith hums in victory before letting his legs relax back into the couch. He pats Lance’s back in patronizing sympathy, trying not to laugh at the grumpiness oozing out of him. Lance doesn’t move, just tilts his head up to glare at Keith. 

“You’re the worst.”

Keith smiles, large and too happy. 

“We need to start getting ready so we’re not late for dinner.”

Lance tucks his face back into Keith’s chest and shakes his head no. Keith runs his fingers through the hairs at the base of Lance’s neck, extra curly from his sleep sweat. 

“Curtis is making shrimp scampi.”

A pause, before Lance is peeking up. 

“Do you think he’s gonna make that homemade garlic bread again?”

Keith shrugs, eyes darting to the side when he thinks he hears the creak of bedsprings. 

“Probably. Mom said she really liked them, and Curtis is still weirdly fixated on impressing her.” 

Lance snorts, and is about to say something when his eyes catch movement over Keith’s shoulder. His whole body goes tense. Keith frowns, about to turn his head when Lance reaches out to grip his chin and hold him still. He slowly shakes his head, and then the heavy click of nails on hardwood registers. Keith’s eyes widen, and Lance looks grim. He lets go of Keith’s chin and tucks his head down. They don’t move as the clicking gets closer, circling around behind them. They see spiky fur rise over the back of the couch, drifting past like a shark fin. They hear heavy snuffles as Kosmo sniffs the air. Keith holds his breath, and he’s sure Lance is too. 

They both know what’s about to happen is inevitable, but they have one tiny window of opportunity to make it out alive. 

He tightens his arms around Lance in preparation. The second he sees the flash of light behind the couch he rolls them off. With how Lance was sprawled over him he can’t really prevent him from hitting the ground like he wants, but he makes sure to curl an arm around his head before they fall. They both smack the ground on their sides, Keith’s elbow knocking against the floor and causing tingles to run up his arm. In the same second they settle Kosmo appears on the couch behind them, paws pressing all 200 pounds of his weight down into the cushions where their delicate internal organs just laid. He huffs, probably disappointed he didn’t get to squash them. He curls up and leans his head over the edge of the couch, panting and letting drool drip down onto Keith’s shoulder. 

It’s gross, too warm and too slimy, but it doesn’t bother Keith like it used to. It’s his life now. But between that and the sweat he’ll definitely need a shower before they go. 

He readjusts his position on the ground as Lance complains about his aching knee getting squashed under Keith’s “dense mass”. He stares dead-faced back at Lance as he feels Kosmo’s drool migrate to the side of his face. Lance, for his part, at least tries not to immediately laugh.

Lance’s shoulders shake, trying to hold in his laughter as the drool slides down Keith’s neck. He lifts his shirt to wipe it away, but the fabric doesn’t do much but spread it. Keith glares at him until he breaks, laughter gusting out in big breaths. He’s tempted to drag Lance on top of him again, use him as a shield while he gets drenched. But his giggles fizzle and pop between them like a soda just being opened, soft and sweet to Keith’s ears. Lance doesn’t laugh as often as he should, unless Keith attacks him with tickles, so he’s loathe to interrupt when it happens naturally. 

Lance turns his head into Keith’s arm to muffle the sound, but Keith just uses that to his advantage. He pulls Lance close and squeezes him in a tight hug. Lance squeaks as he smothered, but hugs him back. He snakes a hand around Keith’s side to fiddle with the end of his braid. 

“Should let me redo this before we go.”

Keith hums in acknowledgement, rubbing his cheek over the top of Lance’s head before moving away. 

“Okay, but I really need to shower first.”

He feels Lance smile against his skin. He pats Keith’s back and starts the laborious process of standing up. Keith shakes his sore arm out and follows. Lance ruffles the fur of Kosmo’s cheeks while Keith stands and pops his back. He pulls all the fur towards the front of Kosmo‘s face to make him look extra fluffy. 

“Sweet baby. Why you gotta try and squash us, huh? Are you not getting enough attention from Keithy? Aww jealous boy”

Keith gives him a pointed look. 

“Don’t encourage him. Acting like he doesn’t get love literally everywhere he goes. He’s fine.”

Kosmo’s tail whips out and hits Keith’s knees. It’s mostly floof, so it doesn’t cause much damage or knock him back, but the feeling of betrayal is so much worse. He stares slack-jawed at where Lance is hiding his smiling face in Kosmo’s neck. Kosmo is looking the other way. Keith scoffs and turns on his heel to head down the hall. 

“Fine, you traitor. I’m getting in the shower, and using all the hot water.” 

“No! Come on, I gotta rinse off too!!”

He hears Lance padding after him, so he breaks into a run. Lance squawks and picks up the pace, but Keith had enough of a head start to get into the bathroom first and slam the door. The sound of it locking is extremely satisfying over Lance smacking his hands against the wood. 

“Keith! Don’t you dare use all the hot water! I need to shower too!”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” he says as he turns the water on. 

“_KEITH!_”

Keith starts humming as he undresses and tosses his clothes in the corner. It’s probably not loud enough for Lance to hear, but just the thought that he might hear him humming, and would therefore be fully aware of how much Keith was ignoring him, filled him with glee. 

Lance stops making a ruckus by the time Keith starts shampooing his hair, and honestly he’s just grateful that Lance isn’t petty enough to cut off the water. He rinses and grabs the conditioner, lathering the ends of his hair and tying it up so it can soak like Lance taught him to while he scrubs down his body. Despite his teasing, the water is pleasantly cool against his heated skin. It’s how he usually has his showers, unlike Lance who apparently needs the water to be practically scalding. Keith is pretty sure that’s bad for his skin, and he always seems to do it when Keith needs to wash dishes. But it makes him happy, and they’ve all learned by now to take enjoyment in the small things. 

Once he’s all clean and rinsed he shuts off the water, rings out his hair, and slides the shower curtain back. 

And realizes his fatal mistake. 

There weren’t any clean towels in the bathroom, aside from the one by the sink that wasn’t large enough to cover one butt cheek. He didn’t even grab clean clothes. Lance gathered all of their towels this morning for a load of laundry, but they never got around to doing it because they decided to nap instead. And now he was standing here, bare naked and dripping, with a vengeful Lance somewhere beyond that door. 

He’s still standing there when Lance comes knocking again. 

“Keeeiith. Are you done now? We gotta leave in like 20 minutes because Shiro and Curtis are both old men who eat dinner at like 5 o’clock.”

Keith bites his lip, looking helplessly around at the empty bathroom, and tries weighing his options. He realizes doesn’t really have any. 

“I, uh, I forgot a towel. And there’s not any in here.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Keith dreads the silence. 

“Oh yeah, we were supposed to do a load. It’s fine, we’ll start it when we get back. There’s still a couple clean ones in the hall closet.”

“...Can you bring me one?”

He can almost feel Lance’s smirk, pressing like a noose around his throat. 

“Hmmm. Nah.”

He groans, loudly so it echoes around the bathroom tiles and reaches Lance. 

“You’re the one who just said we have to leave soon,” he tries to reason.

“Well _you're_ the one who used up all the hot water!”

“I didn’t, though! You know I don’t take really hot showers. I was just teasing!”

“Karma.”

Keith makes a noise in offense, staring at the white door where he can see Lance’s silhouette just underneath. Even his shadow looks smug. Keith looks around the bathroom again, as if that’ll make a towel magically appear. When it doesn’t work he tips his head back and groans again. 

“Lance!”

“Keith.”

Keith grabs the tub of sugar scrub Lance likes using and tosses it at the door. It’s mostly empty, and plastic, so he doesn’t feel bad about it. The solid thunk it makes causes the Lance shadow to jerk back, and he takes short-lived satisfaction from it. 

“Hey!” Lance yells, jiggling the door handle angrily. 

“Grab me a towel!” He demands. 

“Nope! Get one yourself, mister hot water stealer!”

“You realize that dragging this out just means you won’t be able to shower before we go.”

“Guess you’ll be trapped in the car with me when I’m all smelly and gross! We both get to suffer!”

Keith glares at the door. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and squeezes the water from his hair again. 

Then he steps out of the shower. 

He probably shouldn’t do it. He knows Lance will cave eventually and get him a towel, even if it comes down to the last minute. 

But he’s hungry, his ass is cold, and he’s got a point to prove. He’s not really sure what that point is, but he’s gonna prove it. 

And he’d really, really like to see the look on Lance’s face when he gets a taste of his own medicine. Even at the expense of his own dignity. So he walks up to the bathroom door, stares down at Lance’s shadow one more time, before lifting his chin and turning the lock. 

Lance scuttles back into the wall across from the bathroom as soon as Keith opens the door. He stares at Lance, holding burning eye contact while Lance’s jaw drops. They don’t say anything, frozen where they stand, until Lance’s eyes dip down. He catches himself before they go lower than Keith’s chest, but Keith feels every atom in his body zing. This is possibly the most impulsive thing he’s ever done in his life. Or at least this year. Maybe. 

Lance hasn’t moved from his spot glued to the wall. His eyes are bugging out of his head, and his hands clutch at his shirt like a grandmother would a strand of heirloom pearls. He looks so adorably scandalized, that if Keith didn’t currently wish to disintegrate on the spot he’d probably laugh. He unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and clears his throat. His voice pitches like he’s going through puberty again. 

“Towels?”

He knows where they are. He puts the clean ones there himself on laundry days. But he needs to say something to break up the tension, before he locks himself back in the bathroom. Lance wouldn’t let him live that down after this little stunt. 

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment, expression gone glazed and distant. Keith tries very hard to keep his hands at his side, not wanting to hide himself and make everything more awkward by seeming shy. It doesn’t stop his hands from twitching, but it snaps Lance out of his daze. His eyes dart up to Keith’s. 

“Huh?”

Lance whispers it, sounding breathless and confused. Which is probably fair for someone that was suddenly confronted with 6 feet of a wet, naked man. He clenches his hands at his side and takes a quick breath. 

“Towels.” He says, a little more firm. 

Lance blinks quickly at him, before suddenly tilting his head back until it thunks against the wall. He stares at the ceiling while jutting his arm to the side and flapping his hand out. 

“In the closet. You know.”

Keith nods, and after steeling his nerves he turns and walks down the hall. He tries not to clench anything as he goes. His wet feet make quiet squeaks as he walks along the hardwood, each sound puncturing his chest.

This was probably the dumbest thing he’s ever done in his life. 

He keeps his head tilted away from Lance’s direction as he opens the closet door. It’s a small linen closet, nothing but shelves filled with bedding, towels, and the ugly throw pillows Lance saves for holidays. The towels are kept on the bottom two shelves, and the only ones left are the tattered, thin ones they use for cleaning up messes. Keith scowls at them, but leans down to grab one. 

A sharp wolf whistle pierces the air, jump-starting his heart. He jerks upright and turns to see Lance with the biggest grin on his rosy face. 

He yanks the closet door wider and quickly steps behind it. He pulls a ratty towel off the shelf and doesn’t bother drying off, just quickly starts wrapping it around his waist as Lance laughs. It’s horribly thin, and barely goes down to the middle of this thighs. The strings hanging off each end tickle and cling to his damp skin. 

He’s busy trying to permanently tie a knot into the towel when Lance speaks up. 

“Hey, Keith? Will you grab me one too?”

He pauses, and closes his eyes for a moment to gather himself. It’s so nice to hear Lance laughing and teasing. He’s thankful that Lance has been having such a wonderful string of good days, especially when they have to go out tonight. But he has to will himself not to go back there and smother Lance’s face with the other towel. Or strangle himself. He’s not sure which would end his suffering quickest. 

He peeks his head around the door to give Lance the stink eye. He’s still leaning against the wall, but his arms are crossed and he’s tilted to face Keith. Smiling, like an asshole. 

He keeps his eyes on Lance as he reaches out and tugs the other towel off the shelf. Lance’s smile only grows as Keith shuts the closet door and start stalking towards him. He hates that the squeak of his wet feet probably detracts from the menacing aura he’s trying to put out. 

Lance’s cheeks look the way Keith’s entire body feels, burnt and electrified. His eyes land on the pathetic excuse for a towel that Keith has double-knotted around his waist, and huffs out another laugh. He finally looks away when Keith comes to stand in front of him, shoulders tilting up like he’s suddenly shy. 

“Sure looks sturdy, but how are you gonna untie it?” He teases. 

Keith lifts the extra towel and presses it into Lance’s chest, pushing forward until Lance’s back is flush with the wall and he’s pinned in place. He lets his fingers spread out across Lance’s sternum, the towel he’s got trapped between them scratchy and rough under his palm. Lance reaches up to grip the edges of the towel, the heels of his feet hitting the wall as he scoots further back. 

Keith doesn’t remove his arm, just bends his elbow and leans closer when Lance has no where else to go. He still hasn’t looked back up, so Keith tilts his head until his temple is brushing Lance’s. He feels the shiver that shakes out of him even through the towel. He watches as little droplets fall from his hair to land on Lance’s shirt, darkening the fabric in tiny polka dots. He takes a moment to breath and tries to calm his frantic pulse, willing his cheeks to stop burning. 

When a drop lands on Lance’s skin just above the collar of his shirt he shivers again, the water turned icy. He turns his head the tiniest bit so it’s pressed a little more snugly against Keith. One of Lance’s hands leaves the towel to reach up and curl around Keith’s wrist where he still has Lance pinned to the wall. Keith keeps still as Lance slides his hand up Keith’s arm, making the damp hairs stick out and curl backwards. It makes Lance hum in amusement. 

When he leans away Keith looks up to see Lance’s sheepish smile. Like any reflex he has he responds to Lance’s smile with one of his own, completely unable to help himself when so close to his cheeky dimples and glittering eyes. 

He can’t imagine what 13-year-old him would think if he could see this now, but he imagines it would involve a lot of scowling.

He’s pulled from his musing when Lance speaks up, though his voice is still quiet in the space between them.

“I’m sorry for teasing, but to be fair I didn’t think you’d actually walk out here like that. Certainly proved me wrong.” He laughs again when he looks down at Keith’s pathetic excuse for a towel. It digs into his skin, probably tied way too tight in his panic. Lance playfully tugs on the knot, and it doesn’t even budge. “You’re probably going to have to cut this off. It’s pretty old anyway.”

Keith hums in acknowledgement. He leans back down for a moment of quick indulgence, brushing his lips softly against Lance’s. When Lance kisses back Keith sinks forward and let’s his body relax against him. It feels like their blushes could ignite a fire. 

When he leans away Lance’s smile has turned sweeter, his whole expression even brighter. Keith gives him a quick peck, and then grins. He whispers against Lance’s mouth. 

“Better go shower, Lance. We have to leave in 5 minutes.”

He lets his arm fall away and Lance grips the towel close to his chest. He gasps, quiet and so genuine Keith’s smile stretches to show his teeth. 

“You tricked me,” Lance whispers, the betrayal in his voice genuine.

“No, I distracted you,” Keith’s voice lowers, “Although, you distracted me too...”

He leans closer for another kiss, but Lance bumps him out of the way and charges into the bathroom. 

“No time! I have to get ready! Pick out some clothes for me?”

And then the door shuts, the shower turning on and the moment cut. 

Keith’s pout goes unnoticed. He may have deserved that. So he goes to lay out an outfit for each of them, and detours to the kitchen for some scissors to cut off the ratty towel so he can finally dry off, get dressed, and relax on the bed to wait. 

And when Lance hurries into the room minutes later with his own towel twisted up around his head, smirking as he gets dressed, well…

Keith probably deserved that too.


End file.
